


L'ankou

by fallacyofwhat



Series: chaptered stories [5]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Catholicism, Corruption, Death, Demons, Future, Multi, Mythology - Freeform, Mythology References, Past Oh Sehun/Wu Yi Fan | Kris, Post-Nuclear War, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Science Fiction, Witch Hunts, new world order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22020223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallacyofwhat/pseuds/fallacyofwhat
Summary: Sehun had always been a religious person, believing in the ways of the Catholic Church, even if it was still in this day and age a tiny bit outdated. What will he do when Death shows him how the Way of Life really is? How is life at Death's side, or rather death at Death's side? And what happened to the camel?I know I'm made of clay that's worn, blighted by imperfect form, but I will trust the artist molding meI am creation, both haunted and holycreature/half•alive
Relationships: Oh Sehun/Original Character(s), Oh Sehun/Wu Yi Fan | Kris
Series: chaptered stories [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747564
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	1. Prelude: Early Life and Death

**Author's Note:**

> Direct speech in English and other languages are in italics. If someone speaks French (native language in this story) it's unformatted.
> 
> Translations in the footnotes/end notes.

**EARLY LIFE AND DEATH**

§ 1

Sehun saw Death in person for the first time when he buried his mother who died, unfortunately, five days after they buried his father. She wasn’t old, just like his father, dying both at the young age of 74, when he was just fourteen. But the phrase _seeing Death in person_ was a misconception, given the fact the entity just materialised into a being of some sort if he had to and that way always changed his appearance—usually.

Death stood on the opposite side of the grave, next to the priest who spoke the last words after the urn was lowered into the grave. It looked Sehun straight into his eyes, but at the same time didn’t since its face was covered by a white veil. The latter missed the ever-present cold next to him which he had learned to appreciate over the years, the cold that kept him company and gave comfort. Sehun averted his eyes from the white-clothed indescribable. He jumped into the paternoster the priest started. He believed to hallucinate.

“Et ne nous soumets pas à la tentation, mais...” Sehun stopped speaking when he heard a foreign voice so chilling yet so soothing in his head, that his head spun.

_Et ne nous soumets pas à la tentation, mais délivre-nous du mal._

He looked up when he was supposed to cite the next verse of the Notre Père. The timbre of the voice was unnerving to Sehun; he couldn’t distinguish if it were male or female, but it wasn’t the priest’s voice or one he ever heard in his life. Sehun finally locked eyes with the entity, the veil gone, who didn’t move their lips, no words were uttered, but somehow he knew the words unvoiced overlapped with the words in his head, “la puissance et la gloire, pour les siècles des siècles. Amen.”

_Amen._

The voice had changed into a more male one when he had looked up. With every word spoken, the two black orbs of nothingness turned into something resembling eyes and slowly the features of a face formed.

Sehun tried his hardest to ignore the person or whatever it was for the rest of the small mass until the priest came up to him, shaking hands with him and enclosing the orphan in his arms. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

The young boy stepped back when he felt a sudden gust of wind, and the presence from the grave was next to him, standing in his personal space, staring at eye level at him? He took a step back and almost tripped, if it wasn’t for the stranger who pulled Sehun back by his neck, making the young one stumble into his chest. The priest returned Sehun’s incredulous look with one of worry and assurance.

“Meet _faucheuse._ ”

 _“Faucheuse_ as in the Grim Reaper? Prêtre, what is the meaning of this?” Sehun’s mouth felt dry when he zeroed his eyes in on the priest until he felt the familiar comforting cold presence next to him; it was the presence he had felt since consciousness. He whipped his head around, staring at the entity, the _faucheuse,_ the grim reaper; Death that gave him a cheeky grin.

_It was me all along, kid, you just couldn’t see me. You can call me Mort or Death, whichever you prefer._

“I—” Sehun knew that anything was possible in the world he lived in, but that Death was a real thing, real as in non-AI and non-android? “Who- no, _what_ are you?”

§ 2

That was Sehun as of five years ago, getting acquainted with the divine being that was Death for the first time, quite figuratively and literally. Now at nineteen, he was missionising in the desert of South Africa, helping the poorest that still suffered from the D-Day that happened in the very early 21st century. It wasn’t even war, just from one day to another, half the world was wiped out. Asia was wiped out to 89 percent. America was no more, people that survived the attacks had to migrate to the northern uninhabited parts of Alaska and Canada, even starting to somehow settle on Greenland to escape the radius of the fallout. The climate migration in 2050 already led to more multi-ethnicity in different countries, saving those people ironically enough, millions of people fleeing further into the northern hemisphere.

Sehun heard the old radio messages in school, how Moscow, Washington, Pyongyang and Beijing had fallen. He learned how Paris turned into the capital of the New World, a hundred years after the world died. The researchers of the New World found out in 2243, after years of research, that most of the nuclear warheads detonated at once like they were timed. This lead to mostly underground and surface detonations, killing more people this way and terraforming whole countries due to sheer destructiveness. The half-time of that radioactive fallout was less a problem but instead the countless failing nuclear reactors that had no means of protection or weren’t up to par with safety measurements due to the destruction of the world. Europe was lucky enough to press in the very beginning of the 21st century on renewable energies, shutting down the reactors that could be replaced, or in cases sanctioning if a country failed to update their reactors to Gen III and Gen IV in time. 

Life normalised around the twenty-two-mid-forties, but the effects of the nuclear mutations were devastating, something out of a science-fiction novel from the Old World. Not only did the poor die of the lasting radioactive contaminants closer to the failed power plants of the Old World, but the ozone layers were irrevocable thinned, turning most of the world into a desert south of the equator, at the South Pole. The climate drove those strong enough into the underground. Countries like Australia, if not destroyed by the bombs, were roasted until no life was possible anymore. The population was downgraded to 2.8 Billion people, interesting enough according to a UN report where 2.6B was predicted as the low end of a probably 9B by 2300. 

§ 3

Ever since his parents’ death, Sehun set out to venture the world on his own or with other people together. Thanks to the priest, it was easy to be accepted into humanitarian programs, despite some people frowning upon his very religious background in a world that seemed to believe in prayer towards the authorities and their machines more than to a higher being that might give them salvation. He could never shake off the need to pray to God, even if this was most of the time accompanied by a snickering Death at his side, but he refrained from it ever since he learned how important it was to Sehun. Asked about who to believe in, he only answered with 'a higher being'; people should decide for themselves who or what they want to believe in. Quite cryptic for a Catholic, when people were sure he would answer with God. But it was his prêtre who introduced him to Death and not a god-like figure like it was written in the books. Sehun wasn't even sure if the prêtre had been possessed when he introduced the two. Sometimes he did really question the man and was sure he started to get mushy in the brain at the age of 130-something years old.

§ 4

800 km more until Vredenburg, five and a half days if they want to get six hours of sleep a night, pressing the camel to at least 180 km a day. In less than a week, he would reach the borders of the safe zone for the seventh time in his life.

Sehun pulled the cloth more snugly across his head and tied the ends into a knot at his neck, after pulling the dusk mask on again after renewing the air filter. Doing this, he saw a sandstorm approaching and readjusted his goggles. The Geiger counter was picking up an increased amount of rads, obnoxiously beeping every few minutes; the sandstorm came right from Vredenburg. He adjusted the straps of his modified rifle when it threatened to slide down his bony shoulder. The scorpions were no joke and even less the fucktards trying to make a living by attacking missionaries or passers-by and the government itself in some parts of the world. Oh boy.

“If you don’t stay away from me, I’ll fucking die of heatstroke once you suddenly vanish from my side.” His voice sounded muffled when he pulled the mechanical camel along, its screws and metal plates clanking in a rhythmic pattern and Sehun was sure the trader sold him bullshit. No wonder 11km/h was the maximum instead of the usual twenty nowadays.

He stopped suddenly and he felt Death stumbling against and passing through him.

_What—_

“I’m in the fucking desert for a fucking month and now I have fucking sand in my fucking gear shaft and a fucking sandstorm is approaching?” Sehun, ripping the dusk mask down, fuming, threw the reins at the camel that wasn’t even bothered by it. Starting to jump on one foot, he rolled up his cotton pants until the hem was past his prosthesis. He pulled at his leg, forcefully dismounting the lower leg from its mechanical anchorage from the kneecap. Balancing himself out, he leaned slightly over to adjust to the missing weight. “Death, the penetrating oil now, second bag from the left on the right. Now. Thank you.” He started jumping again when he almost lost his balance, the wire connecting the knee cap and thigh stretching dangerously.

 _Why didn’t you lean on me or the camel, but risking sand all over the parts? And why now?_ Death commented incredulously while teleporting between the camel and Sehun to bring him the oil. Wrapping a firm arm around the younger’s waist, he supported his stance. Sehun started cleaning out the small gears that were hidden between a layer of shielding compartments.

“I only cleaned them a month ago and even exchanged the hydraulic oil, but maybe it was last night’s storm? We had nine in four weeks, even the best coverage can’t stand against it. And we have to reach the hideout in an hour. The camel and I have to basically outrun a fucking sandstorm.” He seemed to have calmed down when he deemed the hydraulic clean again. Pressing the metal pin against the hinge bolt clamp of the knee cap, he closed the opening again, but it was stuck and refused to budge. Sehun, inhaling deeply and very frustrated, fumbled with his hunting rifle and rammed the shoulder piece against the stuck pin that finally budged. Death would have clasped hands over his face if he wasn’t the one to uphold Sehun.

_It’s a wonder you’re not dead yet…_

The mechanic loudly slid back into position and Sehun experimentally jumped on the spot, the coil working as smooth as the hydraulic system that extended and receded silently, “All back in place, now let’s get moving.”

§ 4

Sehun had lost his leg two years prior during a humanitarian trip in Syria. Sehun, along with a group of doctors and humanitarian emissaries, had been on their way back to Kilis, Turkey from Homs and had passed Hama and Aleppo safely. He had stepped on a dysfunctional anti-personnel mine near A'zāz that blew off most of his left leg when they had attempted to take a break before they had to go through the very time intensive border patrol. Kilometres away from hospitals, they had to haul him back to A'zāz. In a humid backroom with flies whirring around the room, no means of hygiene and open doors and windows, accompanied by the loud ominous humming of a ceiling fan, one of the doctors attempted an emergency surgery. Swatting away the flies, trying to keep sweat from dripping into the wound, he cauterized the skin up the thigh with gun powder and poured alcohol over the other wounds along his body after amputating the rest of what had been left. Sehun wasn't convulsing or anything, but he was falling in and out of consciousness rapidly, screaming when he was awake. One of the engineers with them had the glorious idea to take an old android apart he found at a street stall. No one had any idea who the leg belonged to before or if it was germ-free, but they risked it all to keep the boy alive and just disinfected the leg to their best ability. The engineer couldn't manage to attach the leg at first since Sehun was rapidly losing blood and they couldn't get blood suitable for his blood type fast enough.

Sehun turned unconscious halfway through the whole procedure. They almost believed to have lost him, if it wasn't for the weak yet steady pulse. The blood oozing from the wound almost stopped and therefore, being at better access for the engineer to apply the leg. Unbeknownst to everyone, Sehun's soul had been detached from his body almost completely. Death had him in his arms, his face contorted into nothingness while he cradled Sehun's soul-body, moving his upper body back and forth in a steady rhythm while muttering in Latin and something no-one could have heard before nor had it ever been documented in human history.

Sehun should have died, if it wasn't for Death forcing his soul to not leave the body, speaking curses on it to bind it forcefully to his human body. The heat in the humid back room was bringing everyone to their limits and they set out to get back to Turkey, most of them not believing that Sehun would survive. His body was tortured by fever and hallucinations when he was conscious, and he couldn't respond to anything and most had lost hope in his recovery, except the engineer and doctor who stayed with him, not leaving his side. Death observed the doctor smoking one cigarette after another in the room when he was keeping an eye on Sehun, the engineer constantly cleaning his guns and equipment, checking Sehun's leg ever so often.

The doctor started to pray at day four, praying to the heavens that they wouldn't take the young boy just yet.

Sehun spent a week and a half in a comatose state, in his castle of a mind where he was talking long hours with Death, Death talking to him, Death trying to keep his soul conscious even if he had to influence Sehun with night terrors to keep his body alert. He did everything to keep him alive, keeping lower and gruesome demons away from him. Sehun's time hadn't come yet.

Sehun survived.

§ 5

Sehun was born to two low-class workers as a wonderchild; his mother was prophesied she could never conceive a child. But when she got pregnant at the age of sixty, the doctors gave the unborn a five percent chance of survival, advising the woman to let the child grow in an artificial uterus. She declined, however, believing in the divine presence that was God in their eyes. Grateful for a healthy baby boy, despite all odds, they let their priest choose the name as a servant of God. Them being of Korean heritage led him to the name Sehun, meaning ‘Serving The World Meritoriously’. Sehun’s parents were sure God had great plans for their child in such a world. Little did they know that God was Death, keeping a protective hand over the child’s heart.

But even Death couldn’t predict the unfathomed abysses the human heart was harbouring, even if Death lived since the beginning of time, witnessing the dinosaurs go extinct, seeing the human’s first step, silently observing the first war fought with guns. Sehun was ambushed on his way to his parents' grave at the young age of twenty-one when Death wasn’t by his side.

§ 6

Sehun felt a fresh breeze on his face, slender fingers running through his hair, massaging his scalp, the tall leaves of grass tickling his skin. “Am I dead and is this heaven?”

_Child, you should know by now that the Catholic perception of Heaven and Hell was just a scheme. Am I not evidence enough, devoted child?_

Sehun opened his eyes, staring at a cloudy yet blue sky when the voice spoke to him. He jerked when the hand in his hair wandered to his exposed and open chest. Looking down on himself he realised what state his body was in. “I’m dead?”

_No, you’re in a coma. The doctors blame your non-futuristic lifestyle to be the source of your non-awakening—apart from your leg—afraid your body won’t accept the android heart to keep you alive._

“What happened?”

_You were ambushed, when you wanted to visit the graves of your beloved, dear child._

Sehun felt too relaxed for the situation, but he blamed it on the ministrations he received from Death. “Ha-has my time come or can I--”

_I have plans for you, but your time has not yet come. You have to wake up. My devoted servant’s time hasn’t come yet. Go, I’ll wait for you on the other side._

Sehun stood in a hospital gown on the meadow, never having seen such a vibrant green in his life. IV drips were attached to his body, disappearing into nothingness, and his throat felt constricted like he wasn’t breathing on his own. He felt a pull and started walking.

His body jerked when the needles in his arms were ripped with force, when he bolted upwards from his bedding, ripping the oxygen mask off his face, startling not only the nurses but a medical android. He locked eyes with Death who stood on the end of his bed, materialised, pulling the same cheeky grin as always. _Welcome back, devoted child._ His form vanished when the doctors rushed through him. Clutching the chest over his new heart, he tried regulating his erratic breathing, taking everything in with wide eyes, the heart monitor accelerating. 

§ 7

Was it possible to have an intimate relationship with a divine being without being intimate? Sehun would love to talk with the priest during the confession but at the same time, he really didn’t want to be judged by his godfather. And he was secretly afraid of talking with him about any kind of ‘abnormality’; even so far in the future, the Catholic church still wasn’t everywhere welcoming of same-sex relationships. It was kinda like they did tolerate it, but dear God, they would still shun you for such ‘sins.’ The Vatican managed to not really lose a lot of its wealth and worth after Day 0, D-Day or whatever people called it, and it was still strong. But the fanatics had sometimes taken over and preached like they had been possessed, using freight and gullibility to their advantage. Even though they called it God’s Day of Judgement like the fanatics they were. Sehun was surprised that the Catholic church still believed the nonsense they taught, but he might have been the same if it wasn’t for Death by his side.

When Sehun wasn’t on the road to help to poor and crippled “in the name of the church”; he totally told the people the church wasn’t the best and they should believe in their capabilities ‘ _because relying on a higher being that tries to act as messenger between God_ (Death, he had to remind himself to say God) _and them but isn’t physically there for you, the rest is utter bullshit_ ’ and it was kind of nonsense. He told them to believe but believe in the good of humankind even if he knew he was kinda blue-eyed with the whole idea and had Death breathing down his neck. Talking about Death: he just took on the breathing to freak Sehun out, he didn’t even need oxygen.

§ 8

The third and final time that Death failed his job, something he hated himself for even though Sehun’s future was set in stone, was when he left Sehun alone for the New Year's Eve mass. Sehun’s heart was known to be special on the black market, the wonder boy with the mechanical heart, but nobody ever attempted to harm him. That is until the fateful night before the clock passed twelve, Sehun laid before his parents’ graves on the _Cimetière du Père-Lachaise,_ the cemetery of the East, Père Lachaise Cemetery, bleeding out.

Death came to him when the clock struck twelve, marking Sehun’s death as the last of the parish in the year, the last death since his parents died. Sehun didn’t know, but Death was so devastated he executed the scavengers that only managed to just leave the massive premise of the graveyard when Death found them with Sehun’s android heart in a box plugged into a battery to keep it going. Even with the heart, Death couldn’t revive him, so he took Sehun’s soul the moment it left the decaying body, introducing his soul to his expected and prophesied duty.

The world was plagued by storms and floods for weeks. At night, it sounded like howling and the humans had been too afraid to leave their houses. The government was on high alert, picking up strange anomalies raging around the world. But they didn’t piece together the information that the signal, every once in a while, pulsated from a small piece of land in the heart of Paris, sending crippling shockwaves around the world, burning like a fire.

That’s how Sehun became the Ankou, a task he despised at first, but came to love once it grew on him over the years. And he grew even more on Death, no denying.


	2. Early Years as Ankou

**EARLY YEARS AS ANKOU**

§ 1

“‘L'Ankou est un vieil homme un peu voûté, aux longs cheveux blancs, très grand et d'une extrême maigreur. Il est vêtu d'une veste noire à longues basques et de braies nouées au-dessus du genou. Il porte également un feutre noir à larges bords qui masque une grande partie de son visage particulièrement hideux. Un visage sans nez, une bouche grimaçante qui s'étire d'une oreille à l'autre. À la place des yeux, deux trous noirs au fond desquels brûlent deux petites chandelles blanches.’ Seriously, I'm neither old, nor do I wear a black jacket, long white hair." The Ankou ran his fingers along the braids on top of his head until his slender fingers reached the bun that contained the rest of the waist-long and thin hair. "A wide-brimmed black hat 'that hides much of his hideous face.' Do I have a hideous face, Death?" 

_Well, you have a nose and the grimacing mouth that stretches from one ear to another? I definitely don't see that one. What was it? 'À la place des yeux, deux trous noir...' Instead of eyes, two black holes—_ the Ankou felt cold breath ghosting over his lips _—You have crisp black orbs that seem to be endless. I'm still amazed the light is even reflected in them._

Sehun put the book away the priest left for him at the doorstep of the graveyard chapel. The scythe moved slightly in his hold, the breeze pressing against the metal, while he adjusted his seat on the crumbling pillar three metres above the ground. "They'll demolish the graveyard to make room for a new factory. Where am I supposed to watch over the souls of the deceased?" 

_You could always travel with me._

"This is the only parish of the old world where I can still be. Only the priest is left that believes," said Sehun, blowing a stray strand of hair out of his face. 

_Ankou, you're the last one left in the perimeter of the new world. Until the old borders of India._

"I was the last death five years ago. Now explain to me how no-one was even killed in the last five years. I can't collect the souls of androids and the government is picking everything and everyone apart these days."

_That's because the humans found ways to uphold infinite immortality._

"Death, you know how dumb 'infinite immortality' sounds?" 

_Sehun, I keep you close because you're dear to me._ Sehun shivered when an invisible and cold palm pressed down on his scar where is heart, his android heart, was supposed to be, before scavengers murdered him after the New Year's Eve mass at the old chapel. 

"But aren't'am an android? 

_Ankou, your heart might have been mechanical, but your soul was human._

Feeling Death vanish, the Ankou stared towards the deserted city that was supposed to be the new capital of the New World. 

A sudden gust of wind took the Ankou off guard and he had almost tipped backwards, if he hadn’t launched the scythe forwards, using the inner dull side to get a grip on one of the crumbling pillars. Hanging upside-down, the silver cross dangling against his lips, legs crossed around the pillar he was sitting on and the scythe as another method of stabilisation, he stared upside down at Death: Death in his human representation.

The other stared suspiciously at Sehun, his lips set in a hard line and unmoving, and he began to communicate with the Ankou. _Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?_

“That’s the only reason you came back? I thought you might genuinely miss me for once.” Being dead meant that Sehun’s body was missing blood and therefore, also a heartbeat, which meant, in consequence, there was no blood rushing to his head.

_I asked you first._

“And I answered your inquiry with a more important one.”

 _Ankou!_ Death moved closer to Sehun, three metres above the ground. From the ground, a scornful snort sounded, followed by another even more scornful sounding neigh.

“See, my horse agrees with me.” The Ankou’s companion neighed again while shaking its head, the white and braided mane shaking. Its mechanical joints and hinges slid back into their original positions with a lot of sounds and a passing android was jumping after the noise level normalised and everything was dead silent again. Some stray metal plates slid back over each other, the throat back to looking smooth. But there was still one plate that refused to overlap another one at the crest. 

_Why don’t you oil it?_

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re here? Miss me already?” Sehun puckered his lips. A shiver crawled along his spine when Death delicately placed the tips of his fingers on his nape and pushed him back into a sitting position without so much force, and Sehun felt like floating. But Death’s hand didn’t stop there and after he sat upright, the cold travelled from behind to his exposed chest, resting on the scar. Sehun, slightly uncomfortable, revolved his head around, staring right ahead into Death’s deep orbs. “Maybe I wanted to impress you with my strong physic and me not looking haggard and hideous like the Ankou was portrayed because he was always wearing the ugly wide hat and people usually died seeing him and given the fact—you know, in the night are all cats grey—maybe they just thought he’s ugly?”

_Child, you’re rambling. But I appreciate your efforts, it has been some time since I saw some delectable skin—_

“You what?!” Sehun was scandalised and his horse down the pillar mirrored his incredulousness. He jumped down the pillar, slapping one hand and arm over his chest, hiding his nipples and, with an outstretched arm, held the scythe towards Death’s throat. “That’s sexual harassment at the workplace!”

 _Aren’t you the one seducing me, meeting up with me half-naked?_ Death, in all-white with that handsome half-smirk, was always a treat Sehun enjoyed, who didn’t see Death materialised very often, or at least not in his preferred appearance for Sehun.

“If I hadn’t lost my heart, it would have skipped a beat and blood would dust my cheeks pink,” Sehun stated offhandedly towards his horse, who nuzzled the side of his face. He let go of his chest and ran a thumb along the crest to flatten the intractable plate. Refusing to yield, he offered Death his scythe, who took it. Burying his hands in his companion’s mane, he took some well-aimed momentum and jumped on the horse’s back. Once he sat on the back, he pressed down on the plate with both palms, his horse pressing against his movement until the plate creakily slid back into place. Feeling a tap on his back, Sehun revolved his head; Death was extending his hydraulic canister to its owner. “Thanks.” Oiling the crest, he jumped back down and stared up at Death on the cart, a hand on his hip.

 _Yeah, I miss that, your blush was always a delight back when you were alive,_ Death mentioned when he already sat on the rider’s seat, patting the seat next to him. Sehun decided to ignore the statement and fastened the horse’s bridles before pulling himself up on the cart.

“I don’t know about you, but there’s supposed to be a sandstorm tonight and I still do breath, even without heart.” Sehun’s voice turned muffled when he dragged his black hoodie and tank top over his head, revealing a dust mask without an additional air filter and goggles from the open load area. The mask dangled from his neck and he strapped the goggles around his head. “I mean, did you ever have sand in your buttcrack? The shit gets everywhere.”

 _Is that why you already wore boots and jeans throughout the day?_ Waving his hand in front of his eyes, he let his eyes disappear.

“Can’t you just wear goggles? The shit creeps me out.” Sehun shuddered and turned away, loosening the reins and giving his horse an _‘on y va’._

_We need to go two parishes over, there’s a lot for me to harvest tonight. You can help._

“Which banlieue is it?”

_I guess back in the day its name was Saint-Denis?_

Sehun made an affirmative noise. Having Death on board was quite nice since the latter liked to keep a somewhat low profile, the whole cart was invisible and people and cars could pass through, but they felt the weird energy and atmosphere they passed by and heads turned a lot.

“Do I want to know why we’re going? And what if one of my parishes is in it?”

 _I made sure you’re the last one, Oh Sehun._ It was an ominous answer and Sehun was now sure Death was involved in him not being freed from his task. Too many people lived in the commune he was at. And he knows for sure that people died throughout those five years. He saw them. He saw Death collect their souls. _I reduced your parish to the expanse of the inner ten hectares around the chapel, child. No one lives in this parish anymore, you were the last. I’m the lone sovereign over life and death, not some phantasm called God, Sehun. You belong to me and I will do everything that it stays this way. There’s a lot I never told you and I don’t know if you want to know or if you’ll hate me afterwards, but it can’t be undone._ Sehun never had heard Death say so much and it frightened him. The voice wasn’t the one he was used to; it was the one from twelve years ago, at his parents’ grave, the one so unidentifiable, so chilling that your blood clogged in your veins upon hearing it, the one that tied up your throat. He gripped the reins harder, concentrating on his horse when he felt Death look at him even with his eyes gone.

§ 2

_It can’t be undone,_ Sehun chanted the words like a mantra on his head, mulling over the weight of those words. Death had Sehun literally chained to him; he can’t move on into the afterlife, possibly meeting his parents again, but Death had dropped once that reincarnation is a thing, but the afterlife isn’t. It’s either your soul is in the process of being carried on or you’re alive; or in other cases, depending on the value of the soul, it goes ‘missing’, meaning the soul gets eradicated. There’s no in-between. You either live or you live. No afterlife, no paradise, no hell. Just existence—or nothingness.

Sehun thought that Death had quite the weird concept of that whole soul-thing anyway, but he wasn’t one to argue the Creator and Destroyer of the world. But he still sometimes wondered if some of those old fiction books written in the 20th century had some value or essence in its form.

 _What are you thinking about?_ Death hand rested on Sehun’s thigh, his fingers scraping along the inner and worn seam of the thread and the friction sent a shiver up Sehun’s spine, snapping him out of his trance.

“How to get rid of you; you’re making me uncomfortable.” Sehun covered Death’s hand on his thigh with his own, intertwining their fingers before moving Death’s hand to his own lap, while adjusting the reins in his other, not sparing the latter a look, while he manoeuvred his cart down the road.

 _Do you really think you can get a boner without blood in your body?_ Death sounded extremely amused and Sehun could imagine his smug grin without looking at him, a smug grin without the eyes was nothing he could take easy. _  
_ “What?” that took an unexpected turn and Sehun was truly at a loss for words. He moved his hand from Death’s grip.

 _Want to try?_ Death wouldn’t let go and pulled Sehun closer to himself.

“I’m driving, you insolent brat—” The cart swerved a bit and suddenly stopped and Sehun’s horse abruptly revolved its head around and stared Death straight into his non-existent eyes, but the horse’s eyes were vibrating. This happened before. Sehun felt the temperature changing somehow and ominous energy emitted from the horse—the nuclear core! “And you calm down this second!” He jumped up and bounced over the sulky, almost slipping between cart and mechanic, and with light feet he landed on his horse’s back before jumping down and pulling its snaffle forcefully into the other direction, away from Death’s view. “Calm down, he’s joking, no need to be over protective.” His hand blindly felt for around for a switch hidden under the horse’s mane. Pulling it up, he checked the temperature that already started dropping again. “That’s right, girl, don’t do that to us now, you would only hurt yourself.” He scratched his horse behind the twitching metal ears until it calmed down enough so he could let go of it’s reins.

_She’s quite protective of you._

“Given the fact that she can’t even hear the bullshit you’re sprouting, yes, she is.” Sehun let her nuzzle the junction of his neck while he worriedly glanced at Death who was staring at him just as worried.

 _I’m sorry. How’s her core upholding?_ This hit an extremely weak and sore spot in Sehun. This wasn’t the first time his horse’s nuclear core almost overheated because the cooling system wasn’t working efficiently enough.

“Maybe you’re right and I should really reveal myself to a human mechanic. But why have I no ghost horse like I am supposed to have?”

_Because they have been found before and they tended to be less responsive and reliable. Remember the stories about the kelpies and don’t get me started on those persistently angry unicorns. But please do, I’m worried about both of you._

“Thank you,” Sehun couldn’t help himself but smile serenely. Next stop after tonight would be finding a trustworthy human who wouldn’t try to sell out an immortal being since anything was possible with such a government. Death had to kill underlings of his that had fallen into the grasp of such people and he had to burn their bodies so no-one could dissect them. Just because they’re immortal meant they took no harm in this world. Especially when they once had been human-like Sehun had been. “But I’ll need money for that.”

_The priest has your late parents’ accounts still and you never used a lot of it when you had been on missionary trips. And yes, he still has them, even with you gone._

“You’re kidding me, aren’t you?”

_Nope, I’m not. He’s trustworthy. Why would he still care for you, even if you’re dead and he hasn’t seen you since he buried you?_


	3. Under Mortals

**UNDER MORTALS**

§ 1

Sehun was nervous. He hadn’t spoken to a human soul since the day he died, his only interaction being talking to Death and his horse. He was anxious. To give off a more believable picture of him being a traveller, he packed his old backpack, filled it with clothes, food, maps, anything that might give the illusion that he wasn’t an immortal. Wandering all day under the mortals was stressful and his horse felt it. And he had to stay visible for an indefinite period of time, because if he turned invisible, his horse would as well, weirdly enough.

People were staring suspiciously at him because usually, no one in this day of age had a mechanical horse. But his thick french accent when he spoke made people believe that he lived in one of the rural parts of the old France, or people just didn’t realise he was a Parisian because people grew up speaking English as their mother language since no-one bothered learning French anymore these days. Sehun was only dead for five years, but even then, people already spoke English. He grew up bilingual, but his parents mostly spoke French since the priest was only able to speak French as well. And Sehun learned a multitude of languages over the years from missionary trips in his youth and adulthood.

He approached a young-looking man because they could be easily fifty in this day and age. “Excusez-moi, mais où est le mécanicien le plus près qui pourrait m'aider avec des noyaux nucléaires?”

The stranger just stared at him, _“What? Can’t ya speak fucking English? As if I understand your weird language! What is that even supposed to be, gibberish? Retard.”_

“On est en criss de France, esti de con, laisse-moi parler ma langue maternelle,” Sehun inhaled sharply, rolling his eyes behind closed lids, before he opened his eyes again and head-on glared at the stranger. _“I asked where the fuck a mechanic is that can help me with a goddamn nuclear core.”_ For effect he pointed over his shoulder and pointed his thumb at a very angry looking mechanical horse that snorted for dramatic effect. _“And my lady doesn’t appreciate it when her owner is called a ‘retard’,_ monsieur. _”_

_“I—”_

_“Where?”_

_“Two blocks down, there might be a mechanic that can help you.”_ The stranger suddenly scurried away and revealed an amused looking Death who had let him feel dreading anxiousness with the smugest of grins not even the evilest persons could muster. Sehun didn’t comment on it and moved forward, his horse trotting on its reins behind him. Death, the smooth fucker he was, fell in step with Sehun and sneaked his arm around the latter’s waist.

 _We’re cursing with the usage of sacramental objects now? What would the priest say?_ He squeezed Sehun’s ass and pulled him closer, sending Sehun almost stumbling. He had to bite back another round of curses creeping up his vocal cords. He was already suspicious enough with his aura and white hair, but it would be the end of him if he would now start speaking to seemingly air. He already felt the authorities' eyes on him since he stepped out of the priest’s house where the old man couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw him for the first time in over five years.

_It’s cute how you’re cursing me in your mind, makes me wanna eat you up._

Sehun snorted and effectively scared a passer-by, and his horse snapped after Death who was hidden from mortals’ eyes.

“No snapping after idiots, they're not worth it,” Sehun patted his horse’s muzzle.

_Be glad I’m so fond of you that I let you curse at me._

Sehun bite back an equally fond smile that was trying to force its way on his face and was, at the same time, extremely glad that Death never really tried to read his mind, even if he could. Sehun was like an open book to him and he knew, but he didn’t mind if he was honest with himself. Ever since the day twelve years ago when he had to bury his parents when he met Death for the first time materialised, and for fourteen years before that, when he only felt his presence, he was glad to be by his side, to have Death by his side, as macabre as it might sound.

Overcome with a sense of sudden accomplishment, Sehun started humming a tune he only knew because of extensive research in France’s libraries where there had been old data files of music from before the war.

_What song is that? I feel like I heard it before–_

Sehun whispered, “Well, you should since it is a composition about yourself, faucheuse; it’s Danse Macabre.” Sehun felt Death staring questioningly at him, Sehun tipped his temple, _The composer's name is–was Camille Saint-Saëns. It’s based on a poem about you playing the violin at a graveyard after twelve on All Hallows’ Eve, to let the dead rise from their graves and let them dance until the first break of dawn on All Saints’ Day._

Death’s hand brushed past his back and he linked it with Sehun’s arm. _Is that what you’re playing throughout the night in the chapel?_

Sehun made an affirmative snort played off as sneeze, _And now out of my head and no weird tricks, this is serious for me._

Sehun also felt particular cranky that day and almost snarled at people or materialised his scythe when someone came to close to his horse once—a fully working mechanical horse was seldom those days, especially one in fantastic condition. He almost bumped into an official and just barely managed to scrape past them, fingers pressed to his sunglasses to keep them from sliding down and revealing his very non-human eyes. _Death,_ he looked slightly into the other’s direction to open a canal for conversation.

_Yes, my child?_

Sehun already saw the sign for the mechanic. _Do I have an official document like an ID? The chip in my chest isn’t functional anymore after I died._

Death tapped his chin in thought while Sehun lead him. _You should have a fake one. I asked one of the lower demons to get you one, and I should have put it into the saddle bag. Name’s different from Oh Sehun. Even if your death wasn’t mentioned anywhere, you just dropped off the radar, and I have no idea if someone might recognise the name. You should be safe, however, since you’ve never been one to stay long in one place, but that’s just what people thought about you, with you being abroad all the time._

Sehun patted his hoodie pockets for his cigarettes. _What’s my name?_

_Methuselah._

“What?!” Sehun started incredulously at Death, but to the outside, it looked like he was staring at his horse who coincidentally tried to bite into Sehun’s backpack.

_I felt like a biblical name would fit you, the one who brings Death, you know? Don’t look at me like that, your first name is simple Hyuk. Hyuk Methuselah Kim. The one who brings death radiantly. Sounds good, doesn’t it?_

“Are you for real?” Sehun repeated the name to himself silently when he walked again, the cigarette between his fingers when he scratched his temple with his thumb. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks, just ahead of the entrance of the shop. 

_Something the matter, Sehun?_

“You speak a lot these days, it just takes me by surprise,” Sehun whispered to himself when he felt Death’s hand dropping to his butt, squeezing it, before he disappeared. “It’s just nice hearing your voice Death, it soothes my dead heart.” 

Sehun felt empty every time Death left him, he knew he shouldn’t feel like this. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be. The ankou was Death’s henchman, collecting the souls of the deceased, watching over the graveyard, continue on after the last death of the year took his place. He shouldn’t be friends with Death, he shouldn’t snuggle up to him when he told him stories about the past, he shouldn't be here at all anymore.


	4. Kris

**KRIS**

§ 1

Shaking his head, he moved forwards after his horse nudged him into his shoulder to move. The door was open and the garage looked more like a car mechanic shop. He didn’t hear a mortal or any sound, beside the ones from the road.

“Âllo?” he rapped his knuckles loudly against the leaned open door, he cringed at the loudness of his own voice and just wanted to turn around and leave. The smoke was itching in his nose and he remembered his surroundings. Stepping back from possible flammable fumes, he lifted his beanie and pushed the rest of his white hair under it. He waited. His horse also decided to use its tall withers height to her advantage and placed her jowls on top of his head, trying not to put her whole mechanical weight on him. Sehun, unsure what to do, blindly grabbed skywards and patted around her head until he found her neck and fondled it. Just because she was a piece of metal didn’t mean she disliked such ministrations. He called again, “Âllo? _Someone here?_ ”

This time he received a response, but one he wasn’t expecting. He saw a cat rushing through a door with a man hot on her heels. Exactly before the cat exited, the animal processed Sehun there and came to an abrupt halt. Sehun received a humped back and a hiss paired with such a hateful expression only a cat could muster he hadn’t seen in some time in five years. Sehun felt himself slouching his shoulders and a sigh escaping his lips. Cats never liked dead people.

 _“I’m sorry, she apparently doesn’t like robots she’d never seen in her life.”_ The voice was deeper than expected. Sehun almost corrected him but bit his cheek at the same time his horse lifted her muzzle off his head.

“Pour l’amour de Dieu, ne me fait pas peur comme ça!¹ _It’s okay, the people didn’t look any better today. Apparently mechanical horses are seldom these days,_ ” he said, waving it nonchalantly off.

 _“Oh, you’re not from here? And you speak French, didn’t hear that in a while!”_ The mechanic, Sehun presumed, smiled at him, and he didn’t miss that assessing look and how the young man bit the inside of his cheek. Sehun almost felt sorry for him that he had to choose the asexual way, except there came advantages with changing into a materialised appearance, but he wasn’t here to test that out. _“But I need to ask for an ID, the authorities here are very...well...”_

 _“I saw that. Give me some time to find it, I wasn’t asked since I set foot into Paris. Maybe I’m too unsuspiciously suspicious that they think I belong here.”_ He really couldn’t tell that he just lived seven banlieues over on an old cemetery. _“And couldn't we call her robot, it’s already bad enough she has no name.”_

 _“Oh, really?”_ The mechanic sounded way too immersed into his horse, while Sehun rummaged through to the saddle bags hoping Death really put the ID there. Suddenly his horse took two steps backwards, Sehun already automatically wandering with her, his hand in his saddle bag.

 _“She doesn’t like to be touched. Especially not by strangers.”_ Sehun offered the ID to the mechanic, one eye on the cat that looked like it was ready to summon a circle of witches to banish Sehun into the realms of a non-existent underworld.

 _“And what about you?”_ Sehun didn’t register it first, but the mechanic suddenly spoke German. His multilingual brain didn’t even decipher between languages anymore.

Sehun stared unmoving and silently at the mechanic, his eyes turned into slits. To his advantage he was still wearing sunglasses, “What the fuck? Non. Certainement pas!”

_“What, you understood that?”_

Sehun was tempted to pull down his sunglasses for good measure, but he refrained from it and just pinched the bridge of his nose, _“Just because I speak French doesn’t mean you can assume I don’t understand German.”_

_“But aren’t you from Lille?”_

That whole thing just saved Sehun, _“Lille belongs to Nord-de-Pas-Calais. I’m not from the Bretagne or any very rural village where we still only speak French.”_ He snatched his ID from the other, shooting it a short look to know what was written on it. Nothing out of the ordinary, except his supposed address and name.

 _“So, Hyuk, what’s the deal with your second name?”_ The mechanic looked too smugly and Sehun didn’t like it.

 _“My parents had been close with a Catholic_ prêtre _—priest who chose my second name. It means ‘to bring death,’ wanna try? And I’m here to offer you a job, do you want it or do you prefer to sexually harass me?”_

_“I-I’m sorry. What do you need? I assume it’s about the horse?”_

_“Yes. Do you, by any chance, work with nuclear cores?”_

The mechanic nodded his head, now finally eyeing the horse, _“What’s the matter with her? She also seems like an older model to me. Never seen a specimen like her before.”_

_“I have her for over five years now, she might be older though. One of her nuclear cores tends to overheat on occasions and the cooling system can’t cool her down. I have checked the cooling system a couple of times. It’s still fully functional, but maybe you’ve a different opinion?”_

_“Okay, I’ll check it. I don’t know how long it takes and what parts I need. It might cost a nice sum, depending on the work and since I don’t know how you’ll pay—”_ he eyed Sehun again.

 _“Don’t worry, I have the money.”_ Sehun felt sick. The mechanic was definitely his type, but the way he behaves? Sehun’s fingers itched to conjure the scythe.

_“Okay, as I said, it might take some time. So maybe you want to go out and explore the city? It might take some days?”_

_“And here comes in my proposal: I can’t leave her alone. I’m willing to offer money if I can stay here and maybe even occupy the couch, based on how clean it is?”_ Sehun tried not to use his abilities to influence the mortal who had this look of lust again. He nodded again, a weird glint in his eyes. Sehun unloaded his horse and reprimanded himself that he didn’t exchange the set pieces for his carriage.

_“My name is Arv Bebbington-Fell.”_

_“Hyuk Kim.”_

_“I thought your second name is Methu—”_

_“We don’t talk about that.”_

§ 2

Sehun just now realised what he did. He didn’t do things mortals would do. Trying to eat would lead to him vomiting, he didn’t need to sleep, in general, his body functions were non-existent. He let his eyes glide over the garage when he settled down on the couch. Might fake sleeping. He held his eyes low when he removed his sunglasses and pulled off his beanie, his hair falling free into the loose bun he hat knotted it into earlier.

_“And here I just thought your white hair was fake.”_

Sehun kept his eyes on the ground and just hummed in response before laying down on the couch, arm overthrown over his eyes. He just hoped he could establish a connection with Death. He suddenly rose up, without looking at the clearly startled mechanic, holding up a hand, _“Do not, under any circumstances, turn her off. I’m not sure if she would turn on again. She runs smoothly on one core as well.”_ He fell back down, staring at the ceiling. He was in deep shit, he clearly did not think it through.

_“I didn't know she'd be able to run on only one core. Never heard about that before,”_ the mechanic commented when Sehun heard him remove the outer metal shields. How would he knew, anyway, the horse had been infused by a power unknown to humans and Sehun had updated her regularly with electronics and modifications himself. 

_“In case you need parts delivered tell me beforehand so I have the right amount of money._ Merci. _”_

_“Mentioning that I might need to purchase a new core. Do you, by any chance, know what Gen core it is?”_

Sehun wasn't sure; he had the horse for five years, but she might be older. “I updated her a couple of my times, the electronic should work fine with–” Sehun didn't even know how advanced the humans were already, never really keeping an eye out for that. How would he ask which generation they're already in, without being suspicious?

_“Ah, the core is really outdated, that might be it. The second core is a Gen IX and the problematic one is VII, I'm surprised the horse still works. I guess an XII won't work, but I can try to get my hands on an IX, or even better, on an X. I know someone who sells older cores. Let me give him a call.”_

Once he was out of sight, Sehun turned his head the moment his horse did the same, but for other reasons. Death had appeared out of thin air, _Is he trustworthy?_

“To be honest, I have no idea,” he whispered into thin air. French did flow more easily off Sehun's lips than English did. 

_I did check the number he called, and we're in good hands. He called someone that is definitely trustworthy,_ Death ran his hand along the horse's muzzle who leaned into the touch, snorting in delight. Death beckoned Sehun over who compiled and when he stood right in front of his horse, she leaned into the crook of his neck, nuzzling against it. Sehun didn't even register it at first, but Death stood behind him, enclosing his arms around him in a back hug, his nose digging into his shoulder. _We should travel once this is over. I don't have to do the dirty work on this planet myself after all. Will you accompany me? It's not like you have a chance._

 _“_ Seriously, what am I supposed to do with you?” 

_“Am I interrupting something?”_ the mechanic was back and Sehun shook his head in denial, sighing to himself. But his horse snapped after air again, because it saw Death touching Sehun's ass again. Death snickered and vanished again. 

_“Is it normal she bites air? Should I check that?”_

_“Nah, that's normal for her.”_

§ 3

Sehun tried fake-napping while listening to the mechanic talking to his horse and gushing about how hot Sehun apparently was. He might have thought that he was whispering, but Sehun’s hearing was better than it ever had been back when he was living. Sehun lifted his arm of his face and glanced incredulously into the man’s direction when he started analysing what he might look south his belly button, following down the happy trail when Sehun scratched his belly earlier when he had a connection established with Death who was currently somewhere in Russia checking up on some of his underlings that had been fleeing from some shady government officials.

§ 4

_“Shaw Guillermo Joseph Artur Arv Bebbington-Fell!”_ someone shouted from the outside. Sehun had felt someone approaching earlier but apparently the mechanic, with a name officially worse than Sehun’s fake one, wasn’t expecting someone and shrieked. _“When you told me you needed a nuclear core for a mechanical horse I had to see for myself. The last time I saw one was three years ago! You get a discount if the information is real.”_

Something about that made Sehun’s ears ring and the mention of three years ago, Death calling him trustworthy? The door was kicked open and revealed someone Sehun didn’t want to see and that might expose him. Kris Wu, an Quebacian demon living in France for over ten years, someone that knew Sehun from the inside, literally. Sehun tumbled down from the couch in shock, staring wide-eyed at Kris who looked taken by surprise as well, but his look changed shortly after into one of delights.

He was about to speak and the first syllable of Sehun’s name left almost his lips when the mechanic interrupted him, _“That’s Hyuk Methuselah Kim, he’s from Lille and the core is for his horse...”_

 _“_ Hyuk? _Huh? What a surprise to bless Paris with your visit again,”_ Kris moved directly towards Sehun, who supported himself against the wall. If he was weak for Death, he was even weaker for Kris.

_“You two know each other?”_

Sehun didn’t know he could swallow spit after all those years, but he did. He was suddenly feeling so many emotions by just seeing his past lover from when he was still alive and just barely sat through the meeting three years prior.

 _“We do, quite well so,”_ Kris now stood directly before Sehun, “Isn’t that right, _Hyuk?_ ” And Sehun was even weaker for his accent when he spoke French. Kris trapped him between his arms and leaned in, close to Sehun’s ear, his breath fanning directly over Sehun’s still sensitive spot after all those years of being dead. “If the core is for your horse, Ankou, I might give it to you for free.” Sehun’s hands curled into fists against Kris chest who towered over him. “Under two or three conditions, after you managed to hide from me for so long, _Hyuk,_ don’t you agree? We live in the same city after all.”

§ 5

Scratch the thing about sexual tension, but apparently Sehun’s mortal appearance manifested his bodily functions back into existence. His eyes dropped to Kris’ lips that were drawn into a lopsided smug smile.

“Kris,” Sehun whined against the crook of his neck, “Will a rendez-vous be payment enough for the meantime?”

“That’s the least I can expect.” Kris let go of Sehun and turned around, letting Sehun slide down against the wall, hiding his face in his hands. His horse snorted, its hooves scratching against the concrete floor, pulling at his restrainments against the wall.

_“Arv, take them off, she needs to go.”_

_“Go?”_ Sehun heard the restrainments meeting the ground in a clank and hooves tapping against the floor until they had been right before him, and a mechanical muzzle nuzzling his hair before the parts clanked out and together, when the horse folded his legs so it could lie down and its head in his lap.

_“Arv, I’m pretty sure you could work that way as well on interchanging the core, just let me get it from the car.”_

Sehun felt the tension leaving the air when Kris stepped outside, but his longing inside his chest grew. 

§ 6

Sehun had met Kris years before and even if the incubus just made Sehun fall for him on the first night, something grew out of this. Somehow they spent a whole two years together, almost, until it became too much for Sehun and he signed up for an expedition in Africa after he talked long nights with Death because the relationship made him insecure and Death had to comfort him many times. Sehun knew it was partially because of the fact that Kris was an incubus and the mortals flogged around him like flies sometimes, but Sehun couldn’t help the fact that he didn’t feel too comfortable with it. He got together with the incubus some months after he lost his leg. It made him insecure and he wasn’t too sure if a sexual relationship with a thousand-year-old demon was a good thing even if he made him feel good and let him forget his troubles. Sehun fled the country at nineteen temporarily, accompanied by Death on his way to Vredenburg. He called Kris when he passed the border to Egypt, breaking things off with him. He told him about his insecurities and how uncomfortable it made him at times that Kris wasn’t a mortal. Kris understood and let Sehun go.

Sehun knew that he still had somewhere deep down feelings for the incubus, but he didn’t know how legitimate those feelings really were. 

Kris wanted to meet him, when Sehun would be back, to talk things through, but Sehun blocked all communication and spent most time abroad. The first time he met him again was when he needed a replacement core for his horse, when he had been dead for two years already, working as the ankou. It had been awkward to say the least, but he had Death by his side. Kris needed to digest the fact that Sehun was indeed dead, and that he was directly working right under Death, kinda like his right-hand man, that Death placed a protective and warning arm around him whenever Kris tried to bring up the past. Until that day, he’d never saw Death in a human appearance and it freaked him out, as well as the fact of _how_ comfortable Sehun seemed to be with him. That’s why he stopped himself from approaching Sehun and only did so on the second day when Sehun picked up his horse. Kris had stopped himself from releasing any kind of power over him, but he saw the hesitation in Sehun’s eyes, how he had looked at him, even four years later after he was dumped back then by the mortal. But Kris still wanted Sehun, and Sehun felt that but he was unsure about what he wanted.

_“You two...”_

Sehun looked after Kris, not looking at the mechanic. _“We’re ex-lovers that never properly broke up face-to-face. I only called him a couple of years ago.”_

The sound of screws being loosened resonated in the quiet. _“Huh? I never knew Kris had been ever in a relationship. I thought he doesn’t like relationships or had been ever in one?”_

 _“He always had been private about stuff like this, and it seems like he still is...”_ Sehun closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall, inhaling deeply. _Death?_ Sehun waited, but nothing came to fruition. 

He heard Kris coming back into the store, placing a metal box on the ground. He and the mechanic spoke in low voices with one another. Long fingers suddenly had been placed on top of his head, being dragged through his hair. Tilting his head into the touch, he opened his eyes and looked up to Kris, who smiled down at him, “Hey.” Sehun lifted his hand and clasped it around Kris, intertwining their fingers. He felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he let it happen. “Hey.”

“I’m still sorry for attacking you earlier like this, but I really couldn’t help myself when I saw you. As I said, you always have this pull on me, even after all these years. A mortal should have never had this effect on me and it just grew with the knowledge you’re an immortal yourself now,” Kris continued. He slid down next to the wall and wrapped an arm around Sehun. “And I’m afraid of Death’s wrath that might happen, for doing this to you. But I might enjoy it until he finds me like this.”

Sehun kept his eyes trained on Kris, but he had a weird feeling creeping up on him, the mechanic was too close to see. “He might see my eyes, Kris.”

“He won’t talk, trust me. _Isn’t that right, Arv, you won’t talk about anything you see here?_ ” Kris’s voice threatening and menacing, Sehun felt the shift of Kris’ powers. The mechanic jerked and nodded his head, staring with wide eyes at the incubus. “Sehun, maybe you should tell Death what I did, or at least mention that we might have a rendez-vous together. I’ll pick you up later.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹ French: For Christ’s sake, don’t scare me like that!  
> 


	5. The Triangle

**THE TRIANGLE**

§ 1

Once Kris had left the shop, Sehun had ventured outside for a cigarette. Leaned against the wall, his eyes followed clouds and the countless flying objects in the sky. He never understood why some of those immortals always took such a weird interest in him; Kris wasn’t the first one since he died. He had been approached a number of times and it didn’t feel right to him, even if Kris still might have a different position in all this.

_Devoted child, you met Kris?_

Sehun jerked and gripped his chest in fake hurt, “You can’t creep up on me like this!”

_You’re not even trying to deny it?_

“Death, your network is better than the government ever will be and I have a feeling you might have spied on me since I called on you?” Sehun whispered to the ground. Somehow he couldn’t face Death, he felt like he did something he shouldn’t have.

_It’s not your fault it happened, Kris is an incubus after all, and I know he can’t control himself when it comes to you, which is, quite frankly, interesting. He should’ve never caught feelings for a mortal, but he did._

A cold hand curled under his chin and lifted his head to meet Death’s eyes. He had to look up for once. He looked different, a bit like Russians had been portrayed by those old magazines. He was bulky, had immense broad shoulders, a beard that reached his chest and those clear grey eyes that suddenly had Sehun buckle his knees.

_Like what you see?_

“Never guessed I would ever say yes,” Sehun bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t plan on saying that, but whatever effect he had on Kris, this effect had Death on him. Cold breath was ghosting over his lips, _That’s because you look at me and not the appearance I have. You don’t see the ugly truth that his Death, but you see the immortal concept of Death, you don’t see me solely as Creator and Destroyer of the world, you see me as a friend you can trust your life with. You don’t have any stuck-up respect for me, you don’t worship me as a god, you don’t fear me, you see me as an equal, I couldn’t be more thankful, Sehun._

Sehun gripped Death’s wrist under his chin and pulled him closer. He had never hugged Death before, but he felt like it was the right thing to do. But the moment he did, he regretted it; what if someone saw him hugging air, talking to himself?

_Don’t be afraid, I stopped the world for a minute._

Sehun buried his face in Death's chest, enjoying the feeling of Death’s not so cold arms around him. He really liked Death.

“You didn’t let me finish earlier when I said you talk an awful lot these days.”

_What was it then, I’m sorry, but I somehow felt rejection incoming._

“I could never reject you!” Sehun was put out. “Where did you even get that insane idea from? I wanted to say that I enjoy it a lot when you talk, it fills me with warmth and adoratio—” He wasn’t able to finish the sentence, when Death suddenly changed his appearance to Sehun’s preferred one and pulled down his face, dropping his cold lips at the corner of Sehun’s lips.

 _Merci beaucoup, Ankou._ He vanished and left a flustered Sehun behind that felt his dead pulse quickening and something spread in his face. Suddenly the sound of motors and crows sounded again and the world moved again.

§ 2

Sehun wasn’t fully there, when he later met with Kris and the other picked up on it, but learned soon after, that Death had visited Sehun after Kris had left. But it was a nice dinner nonetheless, Sehun was finally able to tell Kris face-to-face why he had broken up with him the way he did. He saw the hurt in Kris’ eyes and apologised so much. But Kris also explained that he didn’t understand where this borderline obsession with Sehun came from that he willingly approached a minor that he still was at that point, and would even engage in sexual activities with him. Keep him around, fall in love with him. But he still was an incubus, that also explained the infatuation Sehun displayed with Kris, even after Kris finally told him what he was, after Death had hinted at it. Kris had been surprised that Sehun was so welcoming and okay with him being a demon, an incubus, but Sehun never told him that he was friends with Death.

Back at the garage, Sehun had a cigarette between his lips, sunglasses pushed into his tied up hair and hands buried in his pockets when he eyed a pile of metal and wood. It didn’t look like replacement parts, but more like garbage and his eyes zeroed in on something that looked like a free-standing punching bag. Stretching out his foot, he tipped at it, seeing if it was still complete.

“Arv?” He called out for the mechanic, jumping up and down on his heels. He had changed clothes at Kris’ place and now sported a greyish olive-green hoodie belonging to Kris and basketball shorts, also from Kris. A drunk had spilt a whole bottle of wine over Sehun. In the past, Sehun had been short-tempered at times and Kris was afraid of what he might do; maybe he expected it or not, but Sehun just grabbed the man’s head and smashed it into a puddle of mud after he had talked shit about God and everything the church did and had done, calling every Catholic an abomination of a whore. That had been the tipping point for Sehun, to the point Kris had to pull him back before he suffocated the drunk in the small puddle, knee pressed into the back, holding the face down with one hand.

 _“Yes?”_ he came outside the shop where Sehun was. He did assess Sehun in a brief once over.

 _“A drunk spilt red wine over my clothes, I had to change, and yes, I do have a mechanic leg.”_ He still had his foot pressed up against the punching back, leaning his whole weight against it. _“Is that trash or do you need it? Otherwise, I would borrow them for some time.”_

The mechanic shook his head, _“No, but what do you want to do with it? Need help to get it out? And your horse is on stand-by. By noon tomorrow, the core should be able to be adjusted and ready.”_

This time Sehun shook his head in dismissal, “That’s the least of my worries, I have worse problems at my hands… Merci, _is it okay to supervise the modifications?_ ”

§ 3

Sehun had the punching bag standing and gave it a few nudges with his bare foot, overseeing the stand it had. Shielding his face with his fists, he lightly jumped back and forth, keeping his right leg levelled up, before delivering a clean roundhouse head kick to the punching back. He switched between jabs, hooks and crosses, additional head and leg kicks in the mix. It had been ages since he trained his kickboxing the Dutch dude taught him over the years.

_It’s been some time since you trained, hasn’t it?_

Sehun didn’t answer. Being dead for once had the advantage he wouldn’t be out of breath and he thought that everything human he felt today might have been a hallucination, but he felt a pleasant burn in his muscles from overexertion.

_“Oh, I didn’t know you’re such a fit guy. What is it you’re doing?”_

Sehun _felt_ Death rolling his eyes. “ _What is it you’re doing, who even says that?_ _Kickboxing._ ” He realised he didn’t sound a bit tired or out of breath.

_“I only heard about the underground fights, is that why you’re here?”_

“Non.” Sehun and Death once or twice visited such events when they had to collect souls, both sitting on top of the bleachers, scythes suspended in thin air, leaning on them while Sehun explained the various combinations to Death. He pointed out advantages and weak points while keeping a close eye on the subject that was supposed to die sometime during the match. Souls didn’t need guidance, they would be weighed automatically upon leaving the body once it stiffens in rigour mortis between two and six hours, usually when the eyelids turned stiff. Death did mention that no-one would give a fuck if the subject would suddenly collapse because everyone would see it as exhaustion from too much exertion. They would only make sure that he didn’t hit is head, that’s why Sehun had to appear before him the night before to warn the soul, but Sehun felt like Death only made him do it so he didn’t forget the procedures an ankou had to follow and also the euphoric feel that would rush through his veins when he announced a mortal’s death. Very macabre, but hey, Sehun lived for it through his death. And Death mentioned something about sparing the poor soul from the end it met. Death could have made one of his underlings do it, otherwise he would be constantly on the jump _even if it isn’t as bad as before the bombs I have nothing to do with, I swear,_ but he took Sehun with him. Maybe it was because of the Muay Thai and Kickboxing?

Maybe he should try his luck in a tournament, but he knew that people got suspicious easily especially if something didn’t seem kosher to their eyes and the government had their ways to find out if you’re a mortal or not. But some demons worked right under the government’s nose without them being aware, take the incubus for example who owns a garage specialised in cars, nuclear energy and parts for those _and_ a fucking stripclub.

Sehun didn’t know how long he was outside dealing with the punching bag until the mechanic called out for him, a bottle of water in his hand. 

_"You’ve been punching it for a couple of hours now, maybe you should take a bre—_ ” Arv stopped talking when he took Sehun’s appearance in. Sehun looked exactly the same as when he came back to the shop, still wearing the hoodie, the shorts, hair tied up, without a sheen of sweat, not out of breath, as awake as before. Sehun looked at him with big eyes, when he redid the bandages around his hands.

 _“Why aren’t you looking a bit fazed after all that training?”_ Arv crossed his arms over his chest, throwing Sehun a warning glance. Sehun knew what he was hinting at and he almost side glanced at Death who was checking up on him from time to time.

_“A local doctor in a different country fucked up my sweat glands during surgery and radiation therapy. It’s a long story.”_

Arv didn’t look too convinced with the answer. _“Different country? Where’ve you been?”_

_I might retreat my comment about him being trustworthy, I thought he wouldn’t talk so much?_

Sehun shrugged his shoulders, maybe he should stay with Kris tonight? But he would have no idea what would come out of this. And walking back to the cemetery would be too suspicious.

 _“North and South Africa, Eastern Europe, parts of the inhabited Asia. I actually lost my leg when I stepped on an anti-personnel mine in Syria._ ”

 _“How_ old _are you?”_ now the mechanic just looked confused and cautious.

 _“Twenty-six,”_ Sehun stepped up to him.

 _“How are you only twenty-six with that kind of experience?”_ The mechanic took a step back, his eyes now transfixed on the black orbs where Sehun’s eyes should be, the Ankou realised.

Sehun stepped closer, almost feeling Arv’s sped-up pulse and he smelled the fear. Death had been right behind him, warning hand on his shoulder, when Sehun almost materialised his scythe out of thin air, the air around his fist starting to wobble. There was a dangerous crisp in the air. _“Don’t you think you ask too many questions?”_ The mechanic gulped. _“I only trust you because you’re acquaintanced with Kris. And I preferred if my horse was ready before noon, Arv.”_

§ 4

_Sometimes I think you’re more like me than you’re an ankou, devoted child._ Death combed Sehun’s hair with his fingers, while the latter rested his head in his lap.

“I just can’t with mortals. They’re too snoopy and only think about themselves. Talking about snoopy, there was an agent stalling me earlier when I came back from Kris. I managed to lose him without a sweat but do you think they keep a close eye on Kris?”

Death hummed in response and snapped his fingers, a void opening, filled with whispers that sent a shiver down Sehun’s spine when he looked into the abyss of absolute nothingness.

 _Don’t look too long into it,_ Death placed a hand over Sehun’s eyes to shield his view. A particular whisper slowly transformed into a long screech that made Sehun cover his ears in fear.

It ended suddenly and Sehun cautiously pulled his hands away, “What the fuck was that?”

_My network?_

Sehun revolved his head around in Death’s lap. “The fuck? A void straight out of the darkest depths of hell that makes your blood boil and freeze at the same time? I felt tingles in my little toe.”

_I’m sorry, but that’s the fastest way to get a multitude of information for different parts from around the globe and they’re always accurate. Talking about that, we should visit Kris._

“Huh?” Sehun straightened his back watching Death getting up, who gripped Sehun’s elbow and pulled him up.

_Once I pass the corner, I’ll look like a human, like... people can see me, but I’ll be mute, much like always, you’ll still hear me though. This way, I can keep a closer eye on you and get info even more directly. Demons in human form are able to approach me without looking weird, but you have to answer, I’ll sign the words to you._

Sehun just nodded dumbly, calling out over his shoulder to Arv that he’ll be back later. Once he passed the corner, he felt a shift in atmosphere and the hand clasped around his wrist suddenly felt less cold and the fingers slid down along his palm, between his. Death squeezed his hand and Sehun returned the gesture, overwhelmed with the change in the situation. Death looked cute, kinda, in Sehun’s eyes at least, even if Sehun had seen this appearance a hundred times, he never got over it. Sehun would have wooed the shit out of him if he had been a mortal back in the day.

§ 5

Death didn’t pull Sehun along to Kris’ apartment but rather against the direction until the flashy lights of a nightclub appeared in his vision. The rain had started to fall earlier, and the lights were reflecting in the puddles and rippled with it when someone stepped in. The bouncer looked bulky and dangerous and assessed Sehun and Death with hostility.

 _Tell him we need to talk with Kris, he’s known as Monsieur Wu here,_ Death signed to Sehun, while transferring the words to him. He flashed Sehun a handsome smile before redirected his eyes still smiling to the bouncer. Sehun, with his purple shaded sunglasses, swallowed thickly.

“Ah, salut. _We’d like to talk to_ Monsieur Wu, _if that’s possible._ ”

 _“And who are you, kid?”_ The bouncer wouldn’t let them through, Sehun knew, maybe he should make a scene, but that would just bring more attention to them and Kris.

 _“Sehun and Mort, we’re friends of his._ ”

_“A lot of people try that, kid, that’s nothing new. I don’t think that Monsieur Wu would associate himself with losers like you, kiddo.”_

_What a loser himself,_ Death snorted to himself and Sehun had to swallow a smirk rising on his lips, “Guess that makes Kris a loser, don’t you think?” Death nodded his head next to him, what fun it could be to mess with mortals.

The bouncer angrily talked in Chinese into his walkie talkie while Sehun started a discussion with him.

 _“Why is your friend not talking? Is he retarded?”_ the bouncer suddenly asked and Sehun lost his smiley demeanour when the man threw a chin at Death.

 _“If you ever call him retarded again, I’m going to break every single bone in your body while I pour hot oil into your wounds.”_ He stepped closer, feeling a pull on his side who didn’t put force into it even if he could. _“He’s mute, you degenerate_ mogui _.”_ Sehun spat out before the bouncer. The air started to grow cold and the bouncer’s face paled.

 _So he_ is _an imp-demon, I couldn’t pinpoint what kind of, because the spell surrounding him is strong. Definitely the work of a professional._ Death made sure the mogui heard him and knew who he was talking to.

 _“What’s going on here?”_ Kris stepped outside the club, fuming with rage. He looked good, so worked up, in the tight dress pants and a white dress shirt, the first few buttons unbuttoned and his jacket just thrown over his shoulders. Sehun wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a slight discolouration around the corner of his lips, probably lipstick. He felt a pull at his sleeve.

 _Did we interrupt him making out?_ Death signed.

“I guess you mean feasting?” Sehun looked between the bouncer and Kris.

 _“Can’t you handle yourself two kid— Sehun!”_ Kris definitely blanked out everyone else, when he set eyes on him, the widest smile with gums showing blooming on his face when he spread his arms out and walked up to Sehun, engulfing in him a tight hug and dropping kisses left and right on his cheeks, because Sehun just barely averted a mouthful of the incubus on his lips. He smelled like liquor. He had this lustful look and Sehun was glad he had Death by his s— Death!

He stood beside him, a smile on his face, when he tugged at Kris’ sleeve and most definitely mouthing _‘hey asshole’_ when Kris looked down on him, paling. “M-Mort!” If his forced smile was anything to go by, he was fearing for his life, but there was something else, something challenging. He had latched himself to Sehun without a care in the world, while Death was standing right beside him. Death waved him off, but his smile was another story.

“Guys!” Sehun stepped between them, pushing both apart, “You’re making a fucking scene with your staring, both of you. We came here for business, Kris, ...Mort.” Kris caved in first and redirected his eyes back to Sehun, the lust gone, but scratching at the edges of the vision. His hand came to rest on Sehun’s elbow and he smiled slightly, side-eyeing Death. “You’re still wearing my clothes, it looks good on you.” Sehun shouldn’t blush. Death, on the other hand, stared Kris further down until Sehun jabbed him into the ribcage and gave him the stink eye. “Keep yourself together, we’re not here to make a scene, we’re already suspicious enough.”

“Monsieur Wu?” The bodyguard interrupted, but Kris ignored him. But he turned around and with every word the man said in Chinese, the weaker the mugoi got.

“Follow me, _we’re going to my office, I don’t want anyone to interrupt us.”_ Kris waved them in, striding through the place like he was a king, everyone backing away while some females and males almost latched themselves to him. Sehun felt sick because he knew at some point he acted the same. Death felt it and wrapped his arm tighter around his waist while holding step with him because some of the patrons eyed Sehun suspiciously. Sehun was no incubus, that much was clear; he was a mortifer, a bringer of death, the ankou. The beat of the music thrummed in his eardrums and he felt the dreaded sense of hostility. It was like the mortals smelt who he was, what his connection with Kris was. When Kris blindly reached for him, out of Death’s arms and manoeuvred him through the people to not lose him, a strong hand leading him, while Death had a fistful of Sehun’s, Kris’, hoodie, to keep up with them.

§ 6

Once the door closed, the music was cut off, but it still rang in Sehun’s ears. Kris turned around to him, assessing him. “Did Arv do something?” Sehun shook his head and flapped his hands toward Death who sat on top of the mahogany desk, while he fell face-first onto the couch in the office. The whole office was so Kris, tall, loud, mature, dominant… sexy—overwhelming in a nutshell. He wanted to leave the room, leave Death and Kris to whatever they had to talk about.

“Sehun, you’re staying here. The mortals seem to be wary of you and I have no idea why,” Kris spoke up from his swivel chair where he conversed in light voices with Death.

_That’s because you touched him in a manner you would never touch someone. You made the first contact, not the other way around, incubus. The mortals don’t understand that, but they feel that Sehun is different for you._

“Yeah, shit, that’s right...” Kris fell silent, typing on his phone and called someone. Death turned the desktop to himself, reading something on it. 

“Arv?” Sehun looked up upon hearing the mechanic’s name. “ _I need you to finish the horse in the next hour. Let no-one in, beside me or Se-Hyuk. I swear, if you go against me, you won’t see the light of the day. I’ll pay for him. He has to leave the city as soon as possible. Don’t ask quest–you know what. Don’t move, I’ll do it myself. I’ll be there in ten.”_

Sehun stood up, he didn’t understand. Death teleported next to him, clasping his hand around Sehun’s, squeezing tight. “What’s going on?”

_The government. I don’t think someone sold you out, but either the government checked up on you or an agent of them relayed information. We’re leaving the country, or more like you are._

“Come on, we’ll take the car. I’ll oversee the core settlement myself and Death will get your things from the chapel. You need to leave as soon as possible, they track your aura,” Kris pointed at his desktop where Sehun saw his face and a multitude of information and data, as well as a last seen location. “It wasn’t the club, someone saw you somewhere else.”

§ 7

Everything passed in a blur after that. Sehun sat on the saddle of his horse and edged her to go faster and faster on the new core. He held his body close to her neck while the ruins and fields passed by them. He had to be in Andorra by sunbreak, and he had less than 10 hours left. He urged his horse to go faster but he knew she was already at her limit, not fully settled to the core yet. She would get speed improvements once in Andorra. Meanwhile, Death stayed back in Paris with Kris, doing what he had to do. Sehun could have stayed, but the faster he got to Andorra, the closer he would be to Gibraltar which would be another 940 kilometres. Good thing neither he nor his horse needed sleep and fuel.

The weight of his scythe weighed on his mind, the tattoo burning with hatred that he left his parish like that, leaving the _pretre_ behind like this, his parents. This was the first time in five years that he left the vicinity of Paris.

He still had to race six hours, and somewhere a clock struck for the witching hour while he and his horse passed the path without a sound into the night. 

_“Sehun, I’ll come and get you, when the time is right. Just stay low in Gibraltar, give me time, stay low. We’ll come and get you.”_

Kris had promised Sehun before he had suddenly pulled him in his arms and gave him a kiss Sehun never had before. It was full of care and adoration, maybe even love?

But his lips still tingled three hours later, before Kris gave the horse a slap that made it run. Death had not kissed him, even though he looked like he was slightly sour that Kris had done it. He had just squeezed Sehun’s hands and that was reassurance enough for him, he trusted Death with every fiber of his immortal being. He was already too long on earth, he shouldn’t be here anymore; he was long past and the earth would only endure you so long, even with Death being the Creator of it. If his time had come, so should it be. But until it was time, he would run.


	6. Gibraltar

**GIBRALTAR**

§ 1

_Sehun?_

Sehun almost swerved off the gravel path, pulling the reins hard when he heard Death’s voice in his head. The hooves of his horse still echoed loudly in his ears. “What?” he gasped in shock, so focused on getting away. He had an encounter near the border of France with agents, but he galloped right by the man who had aimed his weaponry towards Sehun. But he had the scythe blade turned inwards and he ripped the man’s head right off his shoulders, the cracking of bones almost drowned in the screams of the other younger governmental officer. He just urged his horse to go faster, chucking off the blood on the blade before dematerialising it again.

_Sehun! Sehun. My child, calm down._

Sehun obliged, pulling the reins of his horse to slow her down until she slowly came to a halt, her ventilation working at full blast. Resting his hands on the neck, inhaling deeply while he felt the core settling down.

“I am.” He was still a bit out of breath, standing most of the time in the stirrup like a jockey, butt raised to be more of a streamline.

_I can sense you, but I can’t locate you._

Sehun smiled to himself. He had associated himself with a witch long before. An intimate he trusted with his undead life. He was still curious how Death never sensed them to be a moon child, but giving their experience, he understood. But Sehun also wondered how he never found out over him. They always visited him, when they were sure Death was out of immediate reach.

“I concealed myself, something I should have done earlier.” Sehun carded his fingers through his horse’s mane.

 _You can conceal yourself? I didn’t know you’d be able to hide from me, a black magic wielder?_ Death sounded genuinely surprised.

“It’s white magic.” Sehun used his heels to get his horse back into motion. Someone was waiting for him at the end of the path. “But yes, they're a black witch.”

_You associate yourself with witches?_

Sehun reached the fork where a crow was sitting on a road sign, regarding him with a tilted shake of its head. Sehun offered the crow his arm, who flapped its wings and jumped from the sign onto his shoulder.

“Yes, I associate myself with witches, sorry for never telling you. But they taught me a lot throughout the years. They promised to accompany me the rest of the way until Gibraltar, when none of you have time.” Sehun was genuinely sorry, he felt like he betrayed Death’s trust in him.

_My child, I trust your ability to choose your companions wisely. I’ll be in Gibraltar by tonight. Stay safe, devoted child._

§ 2

“So, you and Kris?” The witch had been wrapped in Sehun’s cloak, shivering near the fire he lit for them. They had their hands curled around a mug that steamed with some disgusting tea, a long pipe between their fingers. Sehun, sat upon a stone, was polishing and edging the outside of his scythe. “It’s in the past, but it was still so weird, like—I can’t place if I still like him that way or if it was just my body running rampage because I had a human appearance. I usually only have that when I’m collecting souls, or warning humans to be more precise.”

“Well, an ankou shouldn’t feel anything. But given your circumstances, you’re an ankou for five years now?” Sehun nodded his head while stirring soup in the little pod on the fire. “Well, ankou, I don’t want to lean myself too far out of the window, but I guess the universe doesn’t know what it should do with you. Yeah, yeah, Death being the sole creator and all that bullshit aside, there’s still a universe and I refuse to believe that he has anything to do with that. And anyway, the big bang is a thing and I’m pretty sure he was just one of the first homo sapiens that died and tainted the world.” Sehun let out an ‘oof’ and grabbed his chest. “I had already taken my God away from myself and replaced it with him, don’t place your salty finger any deeper in my wound.” 

They rolled their eyes and offered the pipe, the smoke turning golden when Sehun touched the pipe. “Dead giveaway you’re an undead.” They truly gave him finger guns. “Haha, very funny, such new information to me.” Lifting the pipe to his lips, he inhaled deeply and cross-eyed when the smoke hit his lungs. He inhaled the smoke from his lips through his nostrils, glaring at the witch. “What is it this time?”

§ 3

“You know, the usual stuff. Pine, Acorn, Sweetpea, Fir, Lavender, a dash of Iris, and a bit of Marigold, tobacco and, eh, weed?²” They looked somewhat sad and Sehun didn’t want to know what the flowers meant this time.

“I take the weed, witch. I don’t need additional information about what you crushed and infused the tobacco with. Leave me as an ignoramus.” He inhaled deeply again, his nostrils filled with the deadly smoke while giving the witch the pipe back.

“When do you have to leave again?” Sehun looked over to his horse where one imp was instructing a few gremlins to renew the core and oil the whole horse. It had been the witch's underling that had taken a liking to his horse when it settled down. Apparently the horse was also an innovation of a gremlin but the gremlin had never been acknowledged by his maker he helped. “Depends on how long they need.” With these words he stood up and slowly walked up to the pack of workers, crouching down next to the imp, offering him a slice of an apple the witch placed in his open palm. “Hey, do you have any idea when you’ll be finished?” The imp ogled the slice of apple and swallowed saliva. Sehun held him a clock under the nose and waited for him until he pointed towards ten. He gobbled down the apple afterwards. One gremlin looked him up and down, suspicious in nature until he saw the metal peeking out of Sehun’s pants. Sehun wasn’t dumb and he stood up slowly, not to frighten the small gremlins and rolled up the pants, crouching down again, revealing the prosthesis. The figure of 20cm was jumping down his horse and ran towards Sehun, almost slipping on the wet ground and Sehun scooped him up, placing the gremlin on his shin. 

“They like you,” the witch commented and had a coughing fit. 

“And you should stop smoking, you’re not immortal, witch,” Sehun answered and the gremlin made motions of standing up in Sehun’s hand. He didn’t understand what he wanted at first until it dawned on him. The gremlin held onto his fingers when Sehun stood up. He never learned the language of the creatures but heard him shouting something to the others and a little fraction was checking up on his prosthesis. Sehun set him down again and stood there motionless until the gremlins deemed his leg as good as new, that’s at least what he thought.

§ 4

“So, you’re telling me that the gremlins managed to pitch up the core to 95km/h top speed?” The imp nodded in confirmation. “And they checked my leg and cleaned it?” Again a nod. “And now you’re telling me you don’t want anything for it. Beside a thanks?” He sat with his legs crossed on the ground, a few gremlins sitting on his legs and the tallest on his shoulder. The imp stood before him and nodded his head. He refused to talk with immortals but Sehun understood it. Most immortals weren’t as friendly or approachable as him to the smaller and weaker ones. Especially to those shunned by human society because they either helped in their lives like gremlins and imps were supposed to do. But to Sehun, he always liked those more, even if they didn’t talk to him. He always tried to give back, but according to the witch, the gremlins were thankful enough to have worked for Sehun in the first place and it confused him to no end. A premonition crept up on him he decided to banish it the second it came up. 

“I’m taking my leave now, witch. Thanks for your help.” Sehun also bowed down to the gremlins and the imp. “I have to be in Gibraltar by 9 the latest. I should leave without delay. Until we meet again, witch.”

“Safe travel, Child of Death. Before you leave, you never gave me your name.” The witch stood there, a hand open in a motion of having something presented.

“Witch, I cannot give you my name, but you can refer to me as Sehun.” He smiled at them, being aware of what their call was. They were trying to save him, but he couldn’t let that happen.

“Sehun, it is, thanks for telling me, even if you haven’t given me your name.” The witch, the faerie, smiled at him in parting before turning around, leaving Sehun on his saddle before he stirred it into the opposite direction. Pressing his heels into the horse’s flanks, it started going into movement before winning in speed and almost flying over riverbanks and fields, closer to Gibraltar with every hoof.

§ 5

By the time he was four hours away from Gibraltar, blood was drying on his clothes and his inner self had been possessed by bloodthirst. He had numerous encounters with governmentals crossing his path, trying to stop him. His concealment was losing intensity at an alarming rate and he would be visible and locatable at the exact spot once he arrived. Sehun knew something was wrong with him; his thoughts started to rot. His tattoos started to colour his body centimetre by centimetre. Force was interrupting his thoughts every once in a while, his consciousness dropping in and out. He felt like something was overtaking him, something stronger than he knew so far.

His horse was at its limit, but showing no signs of slowing down. The cooling system was revved up to max, smoke coiling from the horse’s nostrils. In his clouded mind, Sehun recognised Death calling him, but he wasn’t able to answer. Maybe his time had come and the universe was demanding its tribute from an immortal like him. One that had defied space and time, gotten away from death more than once and now resisted his impending doom by four years. The gods were furious—as much as Death told him he was the Destroyer and Maker. There was something else out there that no-one was aware of and never could have been. Sehun felt their long and poisoned talons slowing reaching for him. Gibraltar wouldn’t save him.

He couldn’t stop now. His primal flight instinct was at full blast, fear. This wasn’t about the government anymore, it never was. The faerie had warned him, she had taken his name to save him. But he would’ve only put her in danger. Death might be the only one that could save him. 

The gods, the demons, were out on a hunt for him.

§ 6

Somewhere near the border of Gibraltar crashed a mechanical horse with its jockey into a house wall. The horse’s front legs suddenly gave out without showing a sign of slowing down, the horse crashing headfirst into the stone wall while the jockey flew head over out of the saddle. He crashed into the wall of the house in a rural town, leaving broken crumbs of stone in his wake. His body was as black as his eyes, the blood on his clothes and black skin looking like it clawed its way onto his face, leaving it whiter than a sheet of paper, as white as the hair that seemed more translucent upon closer inspection. The young man’s whole body was spasming, his screams of agony pressing people into unconsciousness. The villagers called for their priest who paled upon seeing the man, seeing the almost invisible scythe stuck with its blade in the man’s chest. Making the sign of the cross, he called for the strongest men in the village to get the boy into the chapel as fast as possible.

He was tied up and undressed to his briefs. His tattoos were pulsating in an ominous red and his body felt like it was on fire. He was struggling against the bonds, but the boy was possessed by an Unspeakable. The priest felt the boy’s fears and prayers against the Unspeakable in him. 

§ 7

_“... Fiat via illórum ténebrae, et lúbricum: et Ángelus Dómini pérsequens eos. Quóniam grátis abscondérunt míhi intéritum láquei sui: supervácue exprobravérunt ánimam meam. Véniat illi láqueus quem ignórat; et cáptio quam abscóndit,aprehéndat eum: et in láqueum cádat in ipsum. ...”³_

The boy’s screams were ear piercing and it was a wonder he still had a voice, but the Unspeakable seemed to get weaker with each passing verse the priest recited. But it was persistent. The boy was bleeding black tears and the men who had helped the priest backed away, fearful of the monster at their hands.

In the middle of the night, there was a storm brewing, all communication in Gibraltar dead. A strong gust of wind slammed the doors open to the chapel, a thunder revealing a tall hooded figure standing in the doorway. It reeked of blood and death, but it had no material form. The priest felt his heart clenching.

The boy seemed to call on the figure, screaming and crying in a language the priest had never heard before, and the figure stood silent, but in his head, the priest heard the voice. The voice was calling him on to continue the exorcism, to follow through with it.

“... _eradicáre et effugáre a Dei Ecclésia, ab animábus ad imáginem Dei cónditis ac pretióso divíni Ágni sánguine redémptis. Non últra áudeas, sérpens callidíssime, decípere humánum génus, Dei Ecclésiam pérsequi, ac Dei eléctos excútere et cribráre sicut tríticum._ ”⁴

The holy water started boiling the closer the hooded figure strode and the boy’s body was trying to escape from his bindings, his whole body aching in the direction of the figure. His screams were pleas. The priest couldn't understand them, but he felt it, deep down in his core, where his silver cross was burning into his skin when the figure passed him, heading towards the boy.

The world outside was in a tumult, shootings, other worldly languages and screams. Outside the chapel was war. The priest realised Death had stepped past him, their hand reaching out for the boy who was still screaming and crying like a child for their mother. Death stood at the head end of the altar where the boy was lying upon, covering his eyes. The screams stopped immediately, but the boy was hiccuping and crying, shaking from the stress, but the cries had died down to sobs. He laid still and was so quiet. The priest had stopped reciting the exorcism and was silently reciting the E Nomine, his hand clasped around his silver cross that was burning his skin. Noone uttered a word in the chapel and the sounds from outside sounded suddenly so much more powerful and louder. It smelt like fire, the rain was pressing against the windows and it sounded like windows were bursting in the chapel with increasing speed towards the altar.

Death leaned down towards the boy’s face, whispering something until their lips met. The moment their lips touched, the altar window displaying the crucifixion of Christ burst into a million pieces. The sounds outside stilled and the world was no more.

_“Sehun, my name is ...”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ² Pine: Hope, Pity; Marigold: Cruelty, Grief, Jealousy; Fir: Time; Sweetpea: Good-Bye, Departure, Blissful Pleasure, Thank you for a lovely time; Acorn: Nordic Symbol of Life and Immortality; Lavender: Admiration, Solitude; Iris: Your Friendship means so much to me, Faith, Hope.  
> ³ Latin: Let their way become dark and slippery: and let the Angel of the Lord pursue them.  
> For without cause they have hidden their net for me unto destruction: without cause they have upbraided my soul.  
> Let the snare which he knoweth not, come upon him: and let the net which he hath hidden, catch him: and into that very snare let him fall.  
> ⁴ Latin: We command you, begone and fly far from the Church of God, from the souls made by God in His Image and redeemed by the Precious Blood of the Divine Lamb. No longer dare, cunning serpent, to deceive the human race, to persecute God’s Church, to strike God’s elect and to sift them as wheat.  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my story, I spent a couple of month on it and writing the end of the story made me somewhat truly sad, especially since i wrote the last few paragraphs with Towers by We Lost The Sea and it made it so much more impactful for me personally. Feedback and comments are greatly appreciated.  
> Thank you,  
> J.


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